


Shower Thoughts

by Anonymous



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bottom Connor, Character Study, Connor is a Mess (Detroit: Become Human), Dirty Talk, Fluff and Smut, Hank Anderson Is a Sweetheart, M/M, Role Reversal, Shower Sex, Top Hank Anderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:48:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29320425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: They take a shower. That's it. Minor warning for some mental illnesses-related behaviors.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56
Collections: Anonymous





	Shower Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> I really am sleep deprived though oml. I've been working on this endlessly and I still refuse to post it under my name but it needs to see the light anyway. This has never at any point been beta'd, so... Be kind? Enjoy!
> 
> PS: We love neurodivergency here 
> 
> PPS: I'm not expecting comments but they're highly appreciated.

Hank was gradually growing fond of the sensation of warm water on him; at first, he had found it difficult to manage without overheating, but ever since he had learned how to tweak his internal temperature to not have it rise above the required level, it had become a different type of experience, no longer overwhelmingly hot and suffocating, but pleasant and warm. Especially because Connor was always glued to his side.

  
It was amazing to see how the human now refused to do almost anything unless Hank was there with him. If he wanted a coffee he'd grip the android's hand and drag him along, he'd sit on Hank's lap whenever he decided that Sumo had stolen enough of the attention reserved to him, he would constantly ask to be accompanied whenever he had to do some menial task like grocery shopping or the like. 

  
And to think that had first he had been the exact opposite of that.    
  


Cyberlife had accounted for many things except Connor; being such a tough nut to crack, he had involuntarily gotten Hank to focus all his attention on him rather than his mission. The android couldn't even remember the moment in which helping Connor had become more important than the very reason he'd been created, and yet there they were. He no longer asked himself any questions about that, knowing full well that the answer could only be something sappy and romantic that his brain simply couldn't process. 

  
Nevertheless, he couldn't help but feel proud, bordering on smug whenever Connor let him know just how much he trusted the android.    
  


It had taken a long time for him to open up in any way, and not necessarily because of Hank's nature; he didn't seem to have a problem with androids per se as he did with socializing in general. Opening up had not been an option for a long time.    
  


Unless he was working, Connor had been (and still was, for the most part) almost completely unable to open up to people or even just pick up on social cues that humans seemed to find so fundamental. When he was on a mission, he could pick a random person in a room and charm the pants right off of them, but once the uniform was off he went back to retreating into himself. Not even his twin had managed to give Hank more information that he hadn't already gathered on his own, things that were purely circumstantial and of relative importance. None of that would have mattered if love hadn't shockingly blossomed between the two of them, if Connor hadn't found a good reason to open up. 

  
This Connor was vastly different from the one Hank would see at the office, in public places, when they met up with their colleagues; the kid had a thousand faces and none of them were as real as the one Hank (and only Hank) got to see.

They were all perfect imitations of what others expected of him, but they lacked all the important things; the vulnerability, the sadness, the endless string of thoughts that made Connor the young genius that he was, wheels constantly turning in his head and bright ideas always popping up, just waiting for somebody to hear them.

  
All the things that made him such an interesting human and the best up and coming detective in the city would get lost when others were around. 

  
That was the reason Hank cherished their time alone so much. Every little activity that involved just the two of them was safely stored in his memory for him to revisit whenever he wished to. 

  
All their showers together had a folder of their own, one that was growing bigger each week. Connor seemed to particularly love taking showers with Hank, although most times the part where they actually showered was the smallest portion of the whole deal. 

  
Connor liked to cuddle under the steady stream of warm water, plastering himself to Hank's chest and closing his eyes. They would stay there for obscenely long amounts of time, often until the water ran cold and until Connor got dizzy from the heat; Hank treasured those moments. With the white noise of water hitting squeaky clean marble, his human seemed to relax and let go of all thoughts for a while, growing pliant and soft in his arms as he shut everything out except for Hank. 

  
In turn, the android liked to take care of his partner, as he was in that very moment, massaging crazy expensive vegan shampoo in Connor’s curls, inhaling the scent through his nose.    
  


He didn’t need to breathe, but he still liked to do it, especially when he was around Connor; sweet scents coated his tongue in a uniquely human way. Soap, skin, tobacco, and hormones, something so heady and addictive that Hank had learned how to breathe most of the time, just so he could taste the presence of his lover through his sensitive tongue.

  
“You don’t have to do that, you know. I can wash myself.” Connor’s voice was a hoarse whisper, no sign of actual certainty in it.

  
“Yeah, yeah. You say that every time.” The human let out an annoyed huff at Hank’s response, to which the android responded with a chuckle and a small kiss on his freckled shoulder.    
  


Connor always seemed to forget that Hank liked taking care of him… Or perhaps, far more likely, he would get in his head about what Hank wanted and start fearing that the android would only do certain things to please him, which couldn’t be further from the truth. Hank really did like what they did. During the day or the night, at work and home, it didn’t matter to him. Connor’s presence made things pleasant and worthwhile, although he didn’t expect the human to believe him. 

  
“Well sorry for being polite, I guess I will just shut up and let you do all the work.” Connor had a tinge of playfulness and sarcasm in his voice, which  Hank quickly responded to with another light kiss on the man’s skin. “That’s a thought.” He teased, momentarily abandoning Connor's hair care routine to wrap his arms around the human, crossing them over his chest and pulling him back until their bodies were fully connected. It was the very definition of a bear hug, one that Connor quite literally melted in with a soft purr-like sound. 

Although he liked to tease him, Hank knew how complicated things were for Connor when it came down to feelings and interactions. One single jab wouldn't be enough to convince him that everything was indeed fine, that Hank was perfectly happy pampering his lover. Intrusive thoughts would very quickly turn into relentless attacks; he would be fine for a day, maybe two, but eventually those unresolved issues always came to the surface one way or another.    
  


Which meant Hank had to remind him that it was okay to let somebody else take charge and take care of him. To some it might have been a nuisance, some would see Connor as terribly high-maintenance, but Hank thought it was all worth it. It didn't matter how often it happened, getting to ease his lover's discomfort was never a burden to him.

  
"I mean it, you know." He briefly kissed Connor's cheek, trying to sugarcoat his naturally gruff tone and the way he ended up saying things. "You know that if I want something, I'm going to tell you. Or take it. If I want to wash your hair, then just let me wash your goddamn hair. I promise you're not going to turn into a sloth poster child if you relax for fifteen minutes." Connor chuckled quietly against his chest, which Hank took as an obvious win.    
  


It wasn't always this easy; a lifetime of being labeled a gifted child, of insanely high expectations and constant but fierce competition with not one but two brothers of similar age and career path, had turned Connor into the type of man who would happily die before he asked for help.    
  


On a level, Hank hated what they had done to him. But he also knew that Connor loved his family and that he wouldn't have been the man Hank had fallen in love with, had he been any different. The android was convinced he would have fallen for him regardless, but that wasn't the point. Being angry required time and energy he would rather focus on his partner, trying to undo all the twisted notions Connor lived by.    
  


There was always some new case to work on, new classes to take, new praise to earn, but not when they were together, focused on one another. Those were some of the few moments Hank could successfully convince Connor to let go. 

For instance, washing him like that, by rubbing soap on his skin with the care most people would reserve for glass and precious jewels seemed to be doing the trick. Connor relaxed and stopped huffing as he did whenever he was being stubborn, leaning back against Hank with a barely concealed sigh. Sometimes Hank really couldn't understand why Connor would willingly deprive himself of the things he loved, but he had luckily learned that he couldn't understand everything, no matter how hard he tried. Human or android, they were still two different people. In Hank's eyes, a new day was a blank slate and it was up to him to do something with it. It was different for Connor, who either had strangely good days or quietly terrible ones. Being chipper for once didn't mean much in his eyes, despite Hank trying to convince him to take his victories where he could. A good day meant nothing to him when he knew another bad one was coming.    
  


Sometimes he wished they could be one thing; he could try to fix everything that hurt him if they were. But no matter how much he wanted it, they weren't one and would most likely never be. Which meant that all he could do was understand as much as he could, and accept what he couldn't.

  
He would never understand Connor's obsessions, his mood swings, his depressive episodes, or his sudden bursts of rage; all he could do was make sure his partner knew he was loved to the bitter end. That his ugly sides were not less deserving of love just because they were the way they were. It was a tough concept to get through Connor's thick skull, but Hank was nothing but resilient.    
  


"Con?" They had been in silence for such a long time that Hank felt like he needed to announce himself before he broke it. It was such a pleasant thing between them, sharing the silence and not caring in the slightest if sometimes they had nothing to say. Surprisingly, it was Connor himself who had taught him that. 

"Hm?" His lover's voice was raspy after spending all that time mostly silent, and he sounded absolutely delectable. "I love you." Hank knew as soon as he said which reaction he was gonna get, and he guessed it right on the first try. Sputtering, choking slightly, body growing hotter from embarrassment. Connor was still not completely used to open declarations of love. Those three words were usually reserved for special occasions, as the young man preferred to show his feelings rather than talk about them, but Hank still chose to surprise him sometimes. Not too often, he didn't want to push Connor's limits and make him uncomfortable with words he was unfamiliar with, but every once in a while he'd simply say it for no particular reason. His program practically dictated that he did so. There was absolutely nothing sweeter than the look on Connor's face, or the sounds he made in this instance where he had his back turned on him. He remembered that look perfectly, anyway; eyes snapping open, redness taking over his cheeks and neck as he opened and closed his mouth in an attempt to find a proper reaction to sudden displays of affection.    
  


It took several seconds before Connor mumbled a simple "I love you too" in response, but the smile in his voice and the frantic galloping rhythm of his heart were what made it especially worth it.    
  


Hank couldn't help himself at that point; his hands started wandering because of course, they did.

  
Connor didn't expect him to keep his hands to himself, and in turn, Hank found it near impossible to not touch when his lover responded so beautifully to his touches, which was every single time. They were going to get in trouble someday with their inability to keep their hands off each other, but for the moment they were free to do whatever they wanted without repercussion. As long as they could stop themselves from jumping each other at work, it was good enough, despite those occasions in which they had -surprisingly, since Connor wasn't usually a fan- actively engaged in acts of public indecency. 

  
Though Hank couldn't understand what the big deal was with him -just a bunch of plastic and thirium, after all-, Connor was intoxicating in a way only a human could be. The small flaws, the imperfections, the smell of skin and its texture, everything about him flooded Hank's software with myriads of little details to store away safely, forever a part of him and his memories. 

  
The plus side was that Connor liked being touched. He was as attention-starved as a former gifted child could be, constantly seeking approval either through physical contact or by acting the way people expected of him. Although Hank didn't necessarily believe that it was a healthy thing to fuel, he recognized that it wasn't his place to say anything on the matter. Connor already had a therapist whom he begrudgingly agreed to meet every week and Hank... Hank was his lover. He was supposed to help him get better, but his job wasn't to fix him and he had to accept that.

  
So they both indulged as much as they could, drinking up every single moment, never mind how many times they found each other tangled into one another so tightly they could barely tell when one ended and the other began. 

  
At Connor's approving sigh, Hank's hands wandered even lower, only to find him already hard and hot at the touch, his cock bumping against his wrist and tearing a surprised noise out of him.

  
"I've barely even touched you." He teased, and Connor chuckled in the most lovely way in response. "You know you have a crazy effect on me. It's hardly news." Fair enough. Maybe it was foolish of Hank to doubt Connor's feelings, but that amount of desire aimed at him was probably never going to make sense in his mind. How someone like Connor could desire a machine this badly, was beyond him.    
  


He silently reprimanded himself right away; Connor hated it when he called himself a machine, and to be fair, Hank hated it too. 

He was so much more than that, but it was hard to accept the fact when he only ever felt like he was doing a good job at blending in and nothing more. As it turned out, there was no need to be a former heartless machine to feel that way; Connor was living proof of that. 

  
They were both alive, that was the truth they lived in each day. No matter how hard both of them could detach from reality, they were still real, they could feel, want, fear and hope. 

  
So Hank let both of them feel, wrapping his hand softly around Connor's cock and thoroughly enjoying both of their reactions. Connor's soft pleasured gasp and his own spike of arousal, although he only enjoyed it for a bit before tuning his sensors down. He wanted to focus on his partner, nothing more. Getting too worked up was only going to distract him. 

  
His fingers curled in a tighter grip, and he pumped his fist a couple of times, slowly, so slow that eventually, Connor started moving his hips, fucking his fist. Hank growled in warning, but still let him do it. The human liked to be dominated, yes, but that wasn't the end of it. He also liked wiggle room, he liked to feel pleasure, not having restraints, as opposed to wanting said restraints on other occasions. No night was like the night before, and Hank was always curious to see what Connor would do. 

  
This time, he seemed to take his pleasure without over-doing it. He kept a slow rhythm, letting Hank tighten and loosen his fist at will as his hips moved, slowly but surely. It was a gorgeous sight, especially from behind his shoulder. The flat planes of Connor's chest and belly wound tight like the strings of a guitar, lean muscles twitching just underneath the skin, the pink head of his cock peeking from the opening his fist provided, precum already beading at the tip. So little stimulation, so many wonderful reactions. 

  
After a few minutes, Connor started gasping helplessly as he did when he was both overstimulated and unsatisfied with what he was getting, the rhythm of his thrusts growing erratic as he chased a release that was nowhere near to be found. It was just too soon, but Connor could get impatient if he didn't immediately get his way.   
  


"Easy." Hank's voice rumbled low in his chest, and Connor stilled immediately at that single word; he slowly turned his head, brown eyes looking for Hank's from above his shoulder. Once their gazes met, Connor blinked slowly, as if he realizing just now how much of a frenzy he was in, for no good reason. His lips parted in a low exhale, and Hank took that as a sign to start moving his hand once more. This time he was in control of the rhythm, and Connor gladly let him do it. 

  
He tried hard to relax in Hank's grip, barely succeeding, even though the effort was commendable. 

  
Meanwhile, the android raised his free hand to his lips, wetting a couple of fingers with the thirium-based substance he produced as a saliva substitute; it was more viscous, and it made for a wonderful lubricant, even under the spray of water. He wondered why they had designed it that way.   
  


It surely felt like a blessing when he lowered his left arm between them and curled a knuckle against Connor's hole, successfully smearing the substance on his skin, feeling it stick to him just enough for him to push a finger inside.

  
Connor grunted in surprise, hands slamming against the glass of the shower door, making it rattle and then squeak where it came in contact with his palms, which he slowly slid down to keep a better balance. The human had mentioned how the first few moments of penetration were always tough on him, what with his being so perpetually stiff, so he had to take it easy. It always took a bit of patience, but it was a rewarding experience, which was coincidentally why Connor never backed down from the opportunity despite the discomfort. 

  
Hank briefly let go of Connor's cock to lick the palm of his hand, getting it slick enough to glide over the taut flesh, and the human had to choke off a loud moan as his muscles clenched and rolled around his finger. 

  
The android could tell exactly when Connor forgot all about the slight discomfort in his ass because, to push forward into Hank's fist, he impaled himself on Hank's finger without so much as a flinch. Leaning his head to the side, he got a glimpse of his partner's face; Connor's eyes were closed, teeth worrying his lower lip which curled upwards at the corners; he was doing just fine. 

  
It was a good moment to take things further, so Hank draped himself over Connor's back, swiftly adding another finger before the human could even register it and tense in response. The angle of his arm might have been uncomfortable for a human, and for once Hank was grateful not to be one. Flexibility, durability, strength, stamina, those were all characteristics used to describe his model on the old advertisements he had seen, and it was ironic how useful those things were when it came to sex; arguably even more useful than they were out in the field, hunting deviants or -more recently- common criminals. 

  
He had no issue with using both hands at the same time at such an awkward angle, and even if he had, there was no way he could stop. 

  
The moment his two fingers curled just the right way and he bumped against those bundle of nerves inside of Connor, the young man nearly howled, body convulsing as he stopped every other movement, simply trying to deal with the pleasure. It was _intoxicating_. 

  
"Wait, wait, don't tell me." He whispered, his voice coming out hoarse, rough with excitement. "You're close already?" This time, there was a playfulness in his voice and a shit-eating grin on his face, which got even wider when Connor squeaked in protest. 

  
"You know, making fun of people makes it harder for you to make them come." Hank chuckled, kissing the freckles on his lover's shoulder. "I'm not making fun of you. I think it's hot."

  
Connor shivered as if he knew what was coming.    
  


"The way you go crazy with just a couple of my fingers up your ass, like I'm doing the most mind-blowing things to you... You don't know how hot that is, do you?" 

  
The young man wisely didn't respond, but his ears turned pink. "I could just stay here like this and talk to you. Tell you how good it feels to fuck you, how nice and tight you are for me, and you'd still come." Still stubborn, Connor refused to say anything, but his muffled whimper was as obvious as the way his cock twitched in Hank's hand. 

  
"You're lucky I'm not that mean." And he curled his fingers again, assaulting Connor's prostate, except this time he didn't stop. He kept going, his other hand pumping the man's cock, way after he was warned time and time again that if he kept going like this, Connor wasn't gonna last. He didn't want him to last, not at all, and he proved it.

  
A little while later, maybe a couple of minutes, Connor stilled completely, body tensing as if he was a predator about to jump on his prey; Hank knew his tells well enough to keep going, just a bit faster and harder. Seconds later, the young man's release hit him like a freight train, his back arching and pressing him up against Hank as he gasped and convulsed softly in his arms. 

  
And then... Then he went beautifully limp, exactly how Hank liked him. Soft, warm, relaxed and safe in his arms. 

  
Connor turned in his bear hug, snuggling against his chest and letting out a sigh that could only be described as blissful, and Hank got reminded yet again of why he did everything he did. There was nothing better than to know he was Connor's safe space, that they had created something so weirdly strong it fueled all their best parts. They were such a weird match, and yet they worked so well together, both as a couple and as partners. As friends, and confidants, as roommates. There was nothing they couldn't overcome when they worked together, even the hardest moments were faced with the intention of coming back together, of fixing things that got damaged in their first attempt at a serious relationship. They were always going to break things. Rules, promises, hearts maybe. But as long as they were willing to fix them and learn, there wasn't much that could stop them. Or maybe there was, there was no way in hell Hank could tell the future. 

  
All he knew was that with Connor in his arms, he felt invincible. Like they could do anything, simply because they were together, because they had decided to take the most exciting journey there could be, and they had decided to take it hand in hand. They didn't know where it was gonna lead, and it was okay.


End file.
